Rest in Pieces
by xXSharadaXx
Summary: Based off of Saliva's song. AltMal. Warning: Ideologically sensitive material. If you do not appreciate manxman, please do not waste your time here. Thank you. R


Disclaimer: I do not own these amazing characters nor the amazing game they hale from. Altair & Malik belong to Ubisoft.

"_Look at me, my depth perception must be off again  
Cause this hurts deeper than I thought it did  
It has not healed with time  
It just shot down my spine  
You look so beautiful tonight  
Reminds me how you laid us down  
And gently smiled before you destroyed my life"_

Malik Al Sayr could not stop it. Even with the abrupt end to Kadar's life and the amputation of his arm, he had some semblance of control. This time it was Altaïr. The tears seared across his russet skin, eyes burning from the sheer heat. He clutched his pants leg, his remaining hand shook, entire body shuddered, barely able to keep itself together as he sat alone in a small corner of the Assassin's Bureau. The only thing that kept his heart wrenching cry from leaving his lips was his rough bite on his already gnawed on lips.

The fool that dare mention the name Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad in the presence of the one armed man be damned.

Malik stumbled to his bedroom from the floor of the Bureau and collapsed on his pile of pillows. He buried his tear-stained face in the satin, the fabric soaked after a few moments. His hand clutches to his chest, but unable to still the pain clenching in his chest. The tightening in his chest was always there, but was manageable as long as **that **name was not spoken.

"_Malik-nazir…"  
"….don't call me that."  
"Hmph."  
"….don't do this you pompous fool…"_

"…_Malik-"  
"Idiot."_

"…"

_Then he was gone._

Why did Malik let him leave in that fashion? Because he thought Altaïr would return and he could make it up to him. He always returned. But he was wrong. Informants reported to Masayf of his demise, leaving no detail where and how. Malik doubted them, but his empty bed, the cold that hit him at night, no longer shielded by a larger, warmer body keeping him safe spoke to him otherwise. The warmth of the other's lips moving so /fervently/ against his own, the searing heat of a passionate night bringing him sweet ecstasy and intimacy with the one man, only person who despite his temperaments, loved him. Not from pity. Not as an attempt for retribution. But for love. Once a foreign term, but later proven.

Thunder shook the Assassin's Bureau with a sickening crack. Rain started to beat on the building, a soft summer storm rolls through the quiet Jerusalem night. Malik rose from his pillows and wandered outside silently, his tears still fresh on his cheek, soon blending in with the pouring rain as it soaks the man thoroughly. He walked silently down the empty street, only occupied with the occasional man rushing home with his possessions. Another memory..

"_A-Altaïr..what if someone…?"  
A soft chuckle. "Malik…you worry too much…"_

_Soft lips found the younger man's, their lips moving against the other's desperately. Malik pressed himself against the older man, whimpering softly as Altaïr's tongue teased him, sliding in and out of Malik's lips._

"_Nngh…p-please…let me taste you…"_

_A smile. _

"_Not yet…"_

The road becomes muddier from the rain and eventually the one-armed assassin fell on his knees, his one arm breaking his fall.

"Altaïr….." His voice shook, very weak from its lack of use in the past months. Before he could bring any kind of control to himself, his mind rushed through the memories, crippling the crippled man as he grasped at his chest, the pain ripping through his chest like a wildfire. Finally the long held sound, the cry of pain escaped his lips, its sound echoed off the buildings, breaking any hearts unfortunate to hear it.

"Malik."

Strong arms wrapped around the broken man, pulling him to the strong figure's chest. Familiar warm lips press to the crying man's forhead.

"Altaïr?..."

Not another sound was issued from the white hooded figure; instead the strong arms rocked Malik sweetly, pressing soft, warm kisses all over his tear-stained face.

"….Al….taïr.." He softly murmurs, the lulling of the sudden warmth from the cold, wet night sending him into a deep sleep. The sleepless nights of waiting up for the return of the older assassin finally took their toll.

A smile.

Malik stirred from his long needed slumber mere hours later, on his pile of pillows. Before even his eyelids move, the memories of the sudden appearance of a white clad man had him up in an instant.

No one was there.

He immediately questioned the next person to pass by his domain. He was in hysterics, looking around frantically, getting up searching his room.

"Have you seen Altaïr??!"

The man merely gave Malik a look of disbelief before answering stiffly, "He is long gone sir….torn apart by Templars no doubt." The man turned on his heel and left before anymore stupid questions could inconvenience him further.

Malik stood latched to the spot, baffled at first, then reality washed over him, as he turned his head slightly to see Altaïr's sword resting on the wall. The only thing returned. The pain returned back a tenfold, he fell to his knees clutching his chest as the tears streaked his warm skin.

"G-Gone…" He whispered the words softly as he removed his dagger from its sheath.

"_Look at me, my depth perception must be off again  
You got much closer than I thought you did  
I'm in your reach  
You held me in your hands"_


End file.
